


Manage Me

by quartermile



Category: All Time Low
Genre: Help, M/M, Recovery, Self Harm, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartermile/pseuds/quartermile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In that Jack comes to the rescue again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manage Me

Alex flinches as his phone rings near him on the nightstand yet again but he doesn’t move to reach for it. He knows exactly who it is. It’s Jack, his best friend-come-boyfriend. He knows he’s worried him. He hasn’t replied to his texts or calls all evening, and at school he hardly spoke.

He can’t help it. That itch is back. That familiar itch under his skin that he longs to chase with a blade. But he can’t. He won’t.

He told himself that once he got the courage to ask Jack to be his boyfriend, he would stop. He threw all of his blades away, much to Jack’s delight. He hated how Alex hurt himself and made himself hurt, bleed on a sometimes daily basis.

He’s done very well since then. The urge never went away but it was far away, locked up in a drawer in the back of his mind. But sometimes, and really this is the first time since he’s stopped that that monster has put up a fight to get out.

He doesn’t want to do it. But he does. He knows exactly where the razors in the little pack to shave with are under his bathroom cabinet. Oh, how easy they are to break.

He needs to hear Jack’s voice and he knows that he’s only a button away. He hears a loud noise as his phone meets the side of his alarm clock, having moved from the vibration of the phone call, and it continues to vibrate.

He aches to answer it. He needs to hear his voice. He knows he could comfort him, and he’d probably be at Alex’s door within five minutes. Hell, he’ll probably show up soon if Alex doesn’t answer, anyway.

He wants to answer, he does, but he’s too scared to move. He’s scared that once he breaks that careful hold on himself, on his body, that the itch will override his thoughts and he’ll make his way to the nearest sharp object.

He’s cold from sitting on the floor, his back hurts from leaning back against his bed for so long. The joints in his fingers ache from the vice grip he has on his arms around his knees which are pulled to his chest. He knows he can’t stay like this forever, but for now, it’s the only thing holding his control.

He slowly becomes aware of a stinging in his arms and he lets his eyes trail down, his breath catching in his throat when he spots why. His fingernails have dug into his skin from holding on so tight, a small trickle of blood forming around the wounds.

That does it, then. It’s too much for him to bear on his own. He all but falls over, snatching his phone from above him on his nightstand. His phone has stopped ringing but he suddenly wishes it hadn’t because with how his hands are shaking, he can hardly see the screen of his phone.

He knows his breathing isn’t right by the way his lungs burn, but he doesn’t really acknowledge it. He can’t. He finally manages to highlight Jack’s name and press call, holding it up to his ear.

He’s shaking so bad his teeth clatter together as he waits for his boyfriend to pick up. It only takes two rings, Jack most likely having his phone in his hand, typing out a message.

“Babe!” Jack answers, mostly cheerfully, though worry can be heard in his voice. Alex can hear a car driving by, and he desperately hopes that means Jack is on his way to his house. He doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this on his own.

All he can answer is a gasp of breath. He didn’t realize that he couldn’t breathe. He should be used to it by now, since he suffers panic attacks fairly often, but mixed with everything else, right now he feels as if someone filled his lungs with cement.

“Alex?” Jack asks, his voice a little more scared.

Alex coughs and wheezes in a breath, forcing his voice out, “J-Jack? Jack, please. I n-need you.” He whispers, pleading. He shuts his eyes against the tears threatening to spill over. He feels one fall down his cheek and he wipes it with the sleeve of his jacket that’s over his hand.

“Alex, baby, what’s wrong? I’m on my way. Are you okay?” Jack demands, suddenly far more worried that he was before.

“I need y-you,” Is all Alex replies. It’s all he can manage out. His shaking hands drop his phone to the floor, but he can’t make himself pick it back up. Jack is on his way and that’s all that matters. He knows in the logical part of his brain that he should assure Jack that he’s okay, but right now he isn’t so sure he is. Logical Alex isn’t really home right now.

He brings his knees back up to his chest, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and resting against his legs. He hears the sobs ripping from his throat but he can’t really feel them. His body really feels numb by this point. He really, really can’t breathe. And he’s really, really scared.

The next thing he knows though, which could be only minutes or hours later is hands shaking his shoulders.

He jerks his head up to look into his boyfriend’s panicked eyes.

“Alex? Alex??” He demands, searching for any recognition in the boy’s eyes. He knows by now that sometime during Alex’s panic attacks, he goes into a daze. He’s pretty sure it’s a form of defense mechanism by his body, “Are you okay??”

Alex’s fingers clutch at his hair, pulling as he shakes his head no. He can’t breathe, he can’t really see through the tears, and goddammit that itch won’t go away.

“Make it stop!” he wails, falling forward into his boyfriend’s chest. He can feel him panting, probably from running the entire way here. Logical Alex feels bad, and knows Jack is terrified right now for him, but he can’t control his voice to tell him anything.

“Make what stop, baby?” Jack asks, wrapping his arms tight around him. His voice is calm, yet panicked; if that’s even possible.

“It won’t stop!” Alex cries, clawing at his arms, his skin itching underneath. He has to make it stop. He needs it to go away. He struggles against Jack’s arms.

It only takes a moment for Jack to realize what Alex means, and his heart breaks for the boy. He knows Alex so desperately wants to never harm himself again, and he’s done wonderfully for nearly a year. Really, Jack knew this was coming. That urge rearing it’s ugly head clashing with a panic attack and a bad day. He had just hoped it wouldn’t.

It’s a struggle to keep Alex from getting to his feet, Jack isn’t any bigger than the slightly older boy, but he uses every bit of strength he has to keeps his boyfriend’s body firmly to his.

“Let me go, Jack, please,” Alex pleads, “don’t let me do it.”

Jack feels his own eyes well up at the desperation in Alex’s voice as he simultaneously begs him to allow but forbid him to chase that awful itch.

Alex moves just right and he slips his arms down over Alex’s, holding them to his body. He grabs at his hands, holding them tight so he can’t move them. The position they’re in, he basically has Alex pinned to the floor, only his bottom half is over Jack’s own legs.

“Please!” Alex wails, letting his head thunk down onto the floor. Jack briefly thinks that’ll probably leave a nasty bruise.

“Please what, Alex?” He asks calmly. Although inside, there is a whirlwind of emotion and fear inside him, but he has to remain calm for Alex. He’s dealt with Alex’s panic attacks before but nothing quite this serious, “Alex, breathe baby.” He commands gently.

Alex gasps for breath under him, grunting and whimpering as he internally battles with himself. His cheeks are soaked with tears and he finally goes limp under Jack, the strength completely leaving his body.

He squeezes his eyes shut as sobs rip from his throat. Jack shifts them, then, sitting himself up and pulling his boyfriend into his lap.

Alex curls up immediately against him, burying his face in his stomach and crying harder than he probably ever has. Alex doesn’t think he’s ever feel this much anguish, this much of a struggle inside himself.

His fingers curl in Jack’s shirt, clutching him to him, soaking his shirt through with tears.

“Oh, baby… It’s okay… I’ve got you.. You’re okay…” Jack whispers to him, stroking his hair gently, “You’ve got this. You don’t need it, Alex. I promise you don’t. You’re stronger than that.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Alex manages out. He really is. He doesn’t know where it all came from. It just hit. He let himself get desperate before asking Jack for help. He was too scared to bother him. He didn’t want to burden Jack or kill his good mood with something he had to fight himself.

“Don’t be, ‘Lex. I understand,” Jack says. He hasn’t dealt with it himself, but he knows how hard it has to be for Alex. He could see it in the boy’s eyes anytime they got into a conversation about it, which was rare.

Jack realizes his own body is shaking then, and is slightly happy Alex still is so he won’t notice. That won’t do anything to help calm him. He’s terrified for him, and he feels sick over the thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t gotten there.

He seemed to only make it right before the worst of it. Alex told him about how before when he did it regularly, it would start with an urge that built until he had to do it to avoid a panic attack. This time, though, they converged.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, pressing his cheek to Alex’s. The whimpers have faded slightly, and his breathing isn’t quite as hard. He realizes Alex fell asleep and he sighs in relief. He’s learned that after a panic attack, it isn’t uncommon for Alex to want to sleep. They’re normally severe enough they exhaust him. And this one, however short-lived it may have been, was pretty fucking severe.

Jack reaches up, pulling a blanket off of the bed and down to cover them.

-=-

When Alex finally wakes up, he feels several things all at once. He feels his arms burning, probably from clawing at his skin earlier. He feels his chest hurt from the panting and gasping for air. It feels worse than that time he was eight years old and almost drowned in the pool.

He feels majorly ashamed and embarrassed. He feels guilty; he never should have let Jack see that and scare him so badly.

He feels an arm around him, slowly drawing designs on his belly. He slowly lifts his head, glancing behind him to see Jack spooning him, cuddling him close. He lets his head drop back down, not wanting to disturb his boyfriend in case he’s close to sleep.

He feels Jack stir behind him, though, lifting his head from where it rests against Alex’s back. He speaks softly, rubbing his side, “Hey baby… How are you feeling..?”

“Okay,” Alex answers with a whisper, sniffling a little. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to cry in your sleep but he can tell he has been; He can feel his cheeks are wet and chapped, and the pillow under him is wet. He wipes his nose and eyes on his sleeve, allowing Jack to curl his arms around his body and pull him into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers again, curling an arm under his head and resting on it, playing idly with a thread on the blanket.

“Don’t be,” Jack whispers, kissing his shoulder, “Please never let it get that bad again, okay? Call me.”

Alex nods, feeling another hot tear roll down. He inhales a shaky, quiet sob. He really can’t thank Jack enough for being here for him. Especially when it’s something like that.

“I love you, Jack,” Alex whispers, giving a little bit of a laugh, “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

Jack smiles a little, “But you’re my mess. I love you, too.”


End file.
